Hullabaflu

Well, anyone who´s ever read a travel book or seen a travel movie knows that thre will, against all high-flying odds, be at some point an idescribably low point. A point so low it will have the adventurer huddled over in the fetal position wishing for his or her Mommy. Alas, I hit that low. In the last two days two major changes happened: one, not wanting to over-burden Isaac and wanting to stay in Zaragoza a few more days before figuring out where the hell I´m going, I switched couchsurfing locations. My new host is an indescribably nice Mexican fellow who has only a fleeting grasp on the English and French languages, forcing us to communicate through a hilarious combination of English, French, and various gestures. Second, I came down with a mind-numbing, soul-crushing case of the flu. This is the first time I´ve left the apartment in over a day, and the first time I put on something other than pyjamas in two days. Egads!
For his part, Richard (my host) has been incredibly good to me, peppering me with liquids, fresh fruits, and other niceties. Also, lucky for me I had a nice new book to read, which staved off the insanity and cabin fever I would have otherwise had. The last few days have been a blurr of high fever, various liquids, reading my book, and much sleep. Amidst it all I´ve been trying, in broken English, to relate to Richard that I´m usually fun. Today I finally felt alive enough to seek out an internet cafe and contact my peeps. I emerged from the apartment thinking, "oh, right, Spain" and feeling generally out of sorts. I believe that I am now on the mend, though, and hope to proceed with rocking this country to the best of my ability.